


Necessary Maintenance

by imaginary_golux



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jayne likes weapons.  Written for Porn Battle XIII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Maintenance

Jayne likes weapons. That’s something anyone who spends any time with him –and several people who would rather never spend time near him again – figure out pretty gorram quickly. And while River is neither as biddable nor as immediately terrifying as Vera, his first and best love, the fact remains that she is, in point of fact, a weapon. And Jayne likes weapons.

He knows how to take care of them, too, how to strip them down and oil them and make sure they’re in perfect working condition; he’d hardly be a good mercenary if he didn’t. And River is a weapon. And Jayne is good with weapons. Yeah, she’s not _his_ weapon, she does not answer to his hand like a knife or a gun, but still, he can’t deny she’s a good weapon, terrifying and deadly and sleek, and it goes against his grain to see her broken. A weapon should be well cared for, oiled and cleaned and made ready for the day.

So while it might worry Simon, and astonish Kaylee, and cause Mal to swear under his breath every time he sees them together, he is perfectly content to share his bunk with River. His hands are gentle with her as they are with Vera, and he takes her apart and puts her back together, clean and shining and glorious; and it is better than cleaning Vera, because the gun cannot sigh and smile and stretch against his hands, cannot whimper and moan to tell him that he has found the right place to press, to stroke, to pinch, cannot shiver and cry out with pleasure under his hands.

It is not love, and he never calls it that; he does not kiss her, for he is not a kissing man. But it is impossible to deny that she is better now than she has been for years – stands straighter, looks brighter, speaks more clearly and flinches less often – and Jayne is a little proud of that. He is good with weapons, and he likes weapons, and he lays her out on his bed and puts her back together, clean and oiled, mended a little more each time, and smiles to see a good weapon in his hands.


End file.
